Thawing
by Ocne
Summary: Gilraen's son is sick, and yet she hesitates to ask the help of the master healer of Imladris. But the winter is over and, sooner or later, she too must thaw.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N** : This is a translation of the very first story I have written years ago, in French. I reworked it a little bit. And now here it is, for your enjoyment. Or so I hope.

Anything recognisable belongs to Tolkien. The mistakes are mine. And if any of the readers would point them out to me, I'll correct, and gladly.

**Chapter 1**

Gilraen sighed. The winter was gone and the valley of Imladris was blooming. The trees swayed in the wind the brilliant green of their young leaves. Two stores below, master Elrond's garden glittered in the sun after a brief shower. The birds sang and a slight mist that rose from the Bruinen enveloped the white birch trees with a silvered cloak. Gilraen pressed her forehead to the smooth, dark wood of her window frame and sighed again. Until now, she had always managed to cure the ailments that had, from time to time, plagued her little son. From her mother and grandmother, Gilraen held some knowledge of healing herbs. Of which, in Imladris, there was never a shortage. And she held no doubt that, in this valley of immortals, she was the best judge as to the right treatment of those purely human, silly afflictions. And yet, this time, she found herself defeated by a fever.

The sky above the Misty Mountains was clearing after the rain. Estel had been frightened by the thunder only moments ago, but he had already fallen asleep again. The child was weakened by the ever-mounting fever and, Gilraen had to admit to herself, by the potions she was feeding him. The young woman opened the window and inhaled deeply. The wind brought her the fragrances of the earth, the rain and the forest. Gilraen closed her eyes. How long has it been since she had last left her room? Except for her brief trips to the kitchen, a whole week had passed since Aragorn...

Gilraen bit her lip.

Estel. Lord Elrond had named him Estel.

A whole week had passed since Estel had come down with a cough. A simple cold, Gilraen had thought at that time. But the sickness had drained her child of his energy in a single night. The young woman's eyes flew open, over-bright with emotions. She had to find a cure. Her little one was only three years old ; not yet strong enough to fight a sickness for such a long time.

'Mommy?'

Gilraen closed the window before approaching the little bed where her son seemed to blend in with the coverlets. Only yesterday, the child's cheeks had been too bright red for her liking. Today the fever had not abated, but Estel was pale.

'I'm here,' she said, kneeling by the bed.

The child looked at her in confusion.

'Where is daddy?' he asked.

Gilraen's hand, reaching to sweep away the beads of sweat from Estel's forehead, froze mid-way in the air.

'Daddy is gone,' she said, her voice unsteady. 'You know this, little one. Try to sleep some more. It will be alright.'

'But daddy...'

Gilraen pressed her hands, knotted into hard fists, to her stomach. She fought to keep smiling.

'Hush, Estel,' she whispered. 'Hush. You need to rest.'

'Don't want to.'

Gilraen laughed. If Estel could be that stubborn, than, perhaps, he wasn't as sick as she had feared. The woman's laughter died away when her son's eyes closed. The little face became gray. Gilraen stood up in one quick motion. She had done all that she could. It was time to ask for help. And yet she hesitated, her eyes hard, her lips pressed into a grim line. The strongest healer that walked the Middle Earth was at the other end of the hallway, and Gilraen stood unmoving. She had spent the week in her room, nursing her sick child. But nobody had come to ask about her's or her son's health. She rarely wished for company of others and had spent most of her time in her rooms. In all fairness, she shouldn't complain about being left alone. But it stung anyway, the notion that when she truly needed someone to come and inquire about how things were, nobody was there. Gilraen lifted the sleeping boy into her arms and kissed his too warm brow. The sun rays from the window enveloped them both. She looked out at the Misty Mountains, the garden and the trees, unseeing. The year that she had passed at Rivendell swam before her eyes.

Elrond had said little when the mother and the child had first appeared before him, grief-stricken. Gilraen had never met the elf lord before. And that day, when he had looked on them for such a long time, she had started to doubt their welcome. Gilraen remembered still the lord's sudden stillness and attention when he had gazed into Aragorn's eyes.

'Estel,' Elrond had called him.

At the sound of that name, the lord's two sons, who had brought Gilraen here and flanked her even in the great hall, had looked at one another, their faces identically unreadable. Even today, Gilraen could not tell Elladan and Elrohir apart.

'Lady Gilraen,' had said Elrond then, 'we grieve for Arathorn. You are welcome among us. Your child will be safe here.'

She had stayed. The year had passed slowly, as if the time flowed around the green valley, without ever entering. The elves went about their tasks, unconcerned with the two humans in their midst. Gilraen was grateful for that, for she grieved. She was young, only twenty-six, and she had loved her husband. Truly loved, with all the strength of her soul. And now... Now Estel, that she continued to call Aragorn in the silence of her heart, had become her world. Gilraen had no doubt that she could take care of him all by herself. She was his mother! Only, she couldn't lower his fever.

Gilraen looked down at her son. He slept, worn out by the few words that he had spoken. The child had lost so much weight in the last week, Gilraen felt like weeping. Then she shook herself. A year ago, when Arathorn was laid to rest, she had abandoned all hope of happiness. Now, she let go of her pride.

She saw Elrond as soon as she stepped out of her room. He was at a sun-filled balcony, a small distance across the hallway. The elf had his back turned to her. Gilraen stopped at a respectful distance, knowing that her approach was noticed. And yet Elrond did not turn.

_He is a healer_, Gilraen thought in desperation. _He would not deny me help._

'Master Elrond?' she called.

He turned, a polite smile upon his lips.

* * *

This is it, for now. Did you like? Oh, and did I tell you that reviews were most, most welcome? They are!


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's notes **: The college is over! Finally! And here is the second chapter of the story. This time, the chapter needed a translation and, most of all, a rewrite. And, of course, the rewrite took its own path, quite different from my initial intent.

Please remember that English is not my native tongue. I try to do my best, but if some things are unclear (that, actually, might be a problem with my writing skill and not just my English), or if you see mistakes, never hesitate to point them out to me. Thank you for reading!

**Chapter 2**

The Bruinen flew, full of cascades and silvery sparks. On the balcony that overlooked it stood lord Elrond, his hands clasped behind his back. The cool wind from the river smelled of seaweed. In the garden, the last violets added their sweetness to the air. Soon, the rowans will flower, followed by the linden trees, and the evenings will echo with birdsongs. Elrond stretched and lifted his face to the sun with a smile. Soon, the weather will be warm enough for the child to play outside.

The master of Imladris had observed from a distance the two mortals that he had taken under his roof. Gilraen was mourning her husband. She needed space, and Elrond had given her that, understanding well her wish for solitude. And yet he was saddened to see her thus. Gilraen ate little and slept even less. She hardly ever went outside anymore. Even the peace of the valley struggled to reach her, as she closed herself to everything that was life. She chose to withdraw from others who could have listened and understood. For they were many in his household, who knew what it meant to greet each new sunrise with a part of one's soul forever missing. Gilraen chose to seek solace only in her child. And Estel needed his mother. But to be confined to one room was no life for a growing boy. Elrond hoped the young widow possessed enough wisdom to realize that.

It had been almost a week since Gilraen had last left her chambers. The master of Imladris knew what was happening in his own home. He knew that the boy was ailing. Elrond was willing to wait only for so long. If lady Gilraen did not come to him soon, the healer in Elrond would overrule the politeness to do what must be done. The elf waited on the balcony near the young woman's quarters, wondering why asking for assistance, that he was willing and able to provide, was proving so difficult for Gilraen. And then, finally, Gilraen's door opened. The sound of her footsteps was heavy with uncertainty, as was her voice, when she called Elrond's name. He turned. Now that he saw the child, Elrond was surprised that Gilraen had waited that long.

'My lord, I'm sorry to bother you...'

The healer waved away the excuses. He crossed the short distance that separated him from the mother and her child.

'How long has Estel been like this?' he asked, pressing light fingertips to the boy's temples.

The woman shifted uneasily. Elrond noted her discomfort, all the while keeping the attention on his little patient.

'The fever started a week ago,' said Gilraen. 'It wasn't that serious at first. But now... I don't know what to do! Please, I...'

The child shifted in her arms and Gilraen stopped, bowing her head.

Estel awoke with a sigh. He opened his eyes and stared at the elf who was looking down at him.

'I dreamed about papa,' confided the boy with a smile.

Gilraen's breath left her in a rush. Her heart clenched. Her arms trembled and the images before her swam with sudden, bitter tears.

The healer straightened up slowly.

'May I,' he asked, reaching towards the sick child.

Gilraen nodded, her teeth ground together. She felt the slight burden taken away from her and turned away.

'I will be in my room,' she whispered and fled to the safety of her little, solitary world.

Elrond tightened the coverlets around his little patient and settled the boy closer to his chest. He could take Estel to the healing ward, but his own rooms were nearer and Elrond had all the supplies he needed for this task in his study.

'So you dreamt?' he asked, heeding towards his quarters. 'Was it a good dream?'

The dark, tousled head lifted a little from the elf's shoulder. The child, his eyes glazed, searched with difficulty for the source of the voice. Then his gaze found Elrond and the boy smiled again.

'Papa was teaching me to climb a tree.'

'A tree?' said Elrond, pushing open the arched, high doors. 'Really?'

Elladan and Elrohir were sitting on the window sill. They looked up, saw the child in their father's arms, and closed the book from which they had been reading together. Elrond set Estel down on a sofa.

'You are in a good company here,' he said. 'I will return shortly,' Elrond added, speaking to his sons.

Elladan and Elrohir had gotten to their feet, ready to leave. Their father's words stopped them.

* * *

Estel looked at his new surroundings, forgetting about how tired he felt. There was a big, oval window in this room. And it stood wide open, showing great mountains in the distance. Two elves, identical in every way, stood before the window. The wind ruffled and tugged at their locks. The elves seemed dark against the light as they looked at him, unmoving. Estel blinked. He remembered them. From the night when his mommy and he had left their home. But it was all unclear now. Maybe it had been a dream? Estel couldn't really tell any longer. His attention shifted to his left, where rows upon rows of books aligned upon shelves took up the entire wall. Turning to the right, Estel saw bottles, flacons and vials with multicolored liquids that glittered in sunlight. The boy pouted.

A gray curtain lifted as the tall elf returned with a pillow and several blankets in his arms.

'You will do as my mommy?' Estel half-accused, still pouting.

Elrond glanced from the child toward the vials and back.

'No,' he said.

'Good. No potions!'

The child's joyful outcry made Elladan and Elrohir pause at the doorstep. Elrond put his armful of blankets on a nearby chair, crossed the room to close the window and disappeared once again behind the curtain. He soon returned carrying a basin filled with hot water.

'No more potions, huh?' he asked mildly, crouching near the sofa to put the basin on the floor.

Estel pulled a face.

'Tastes bad,' he whispered. 'Don't tell mommy.'

There was a muffled chuckle by the door, where the twin sons of the master of Imladris stood and watched, somehow uncertain whether they wanted to stay or to go.

'All right then. No potions.'

The child, suddenly weary, sagged against the cushions, his eyes closing. Elrond took the small face between his hands.

'Estel, look at me.'

The blue-tinged eyelids barely moved.

'Estel,' repeated the healer, 'look at me. It is not yet time to sleep.'

The child obeyed. For a time, the elf held the boy's gaze. When Elrond released him, Estel laughed. His head was free from the murky fog that had worn him down and had hurt him. Estel felt light, ready to run, to fly, but his body decided differently. Enfolded in a peace as deep as the sky, he fell asleep, a sigh of contentment on his lips.

* * *

The sweat covered coverlets and the small linen nightshirt lay in a pile at the foot of the bed. Elrond had bathed the sleeping boy, to bring him comfort. And Estel burrowed his head into the pillow with a satisfied murmur, once he was clean and dry and wrapped in the warm blankets. Elrond looked at him for a time, his head cocked to one side. His sons still lingered at the doorway. Elrond addressed them without turning.

'Which one of you had climbed the oak in front of the lady Gilraen's window?'

He had addressed Estel in Westron. Now that the child slept, Elrond had spoken in elvish. Elladan and Elrohir approached their father to come stand at his side beside the sofa.

'Both of us,' answered Elladan. 'The sunrise is beautiful from there.'

'I see,' smiled Elrond. 'Since both of you gave Estel the idea to climb trees, and I doubt he's one to let go easily of what he wants, you shall both share the responsibility of teaching him.'

Elladan and Elrohir looked at one another, then at Elrond.

'Father?' asked Elrohir, as if he had difficulty believing what he had heard. 'You want us to teach a child?'

An uneasy tension filled the room. Elrond still crouched at Estel's side. He wasn't looking at his sons. He didn't need to. The elf lord knew well the emotions that he would see upon their faces. His boys, how very changed they had become since their mother's departure. They didn't want a child to hamper them. Elrond could almost hear their thoughts :

_Let his mother take care of him. And leave us alone!_

To be left alone to their grief and anger, and to be left alone to hunt orc, that's what his sons wanted the most now. And that's what the healer and the father in Elrond tried to warn them against. If only they would listen.

'Is this a jest, father?'

It was Elladan's voice, this time. Elrond rose from his crouch. Tall and stern, he looked down at the two young elves as the master of Imladris and not their father. Elladan's and Elrohir's anger flickered, but they didn't back down.

'No jests,' said Elrond. 'Estel has been in Imladris for a year and nobody, except Gilraen, had heard his voice or his laughter. Yes, I want you to teach the child. I want you to notice him, to know that he is there and to take care of him. Is it too much to ask?'

The twins were silent. Elrond wondered with dread how far his sons had gone from him if such a task could be too much. But, finally, they relented.

'We will do as you ask, father,' said Elladan, bowing his head and speaking for them both.

Elrond smiled. Then pushed farther.

'Thank you. We will talk again later about teaching Estel to climb trees. Right now, the time is ripe for him to start learning Sindarin.'

A fire flared in Elladan's eyes. Elrohir's expression became cold and closed.

'The lady Gilraen had lived among us for a year,' Elrohir said. 'Am I to understand that she hadn't even begun to educate her son in our ways?'

A sadness and a weariness came over Elrond. He saw again the wretchedness, the tearing in Gilraen, when she had relinquished her hold on Estel to him today. At the time, most of Elrond's attention had been on the boy. Now he understood what the gesture had meant for the mother.

'She grieves, Elrohir,' he answered. 'Our ways are difficult for her. She has entrusted us with her son's wellbeing and with his education. It is a wise decision. More wise, dare I say,' added Elrond on a lighter note, 'than my decision to teach you the healing arts.'

Two dark heads lifted as Elladan and Elrohir stared at their father in confusion. Then Elladan, his cheeks bright with embarrassment, bent to pick up the discarded pile of coverlets, washcloths and towels at the foot of the bed. Elrohir took the basin of the now cold water before following his brother to the small curtained study. The twins hadn't even thought to assist their father in the healing. True, Elrond had hardly needed assistance. But still, they could have brought him the blankets and the water, they could have helped to bathe the boy. The least they could do now was tidy up the place.

Elrond adjusted the blankets around Estel. The boy lay curled up in the middle of the large pillow. He looked for all the world like a stray kitten to the elf lord's eyes.

Elladan and Elrohir returned and settled back on the window sill.

'We will watch over him,' said Elladan.

'From now on,' added Elrohir as if Elrond, who had straightened his shoulders with a smile, needed the explanation as to the true intent of their words.

He didn't.

'Thank you,' the elf lord said simply.

* * *

**Elrond's Child **: Thank you for your lovely review. I'm glad you liked the first chapter. It's true, Gilraen isn't often featured in fanfiction. As you can see from this chapter, she's not the main character in my stories. But she is present in all the stories I have written until now. Did you like the change of perspective from Gilraen to Elrond? Did you like my take on the twins?

Thank you for reading!


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